Snuff, Requiem of Struggle
by Sangyne Annevile
Summary: A world of Chaotic mess arises from the ashes trying to bring itself back up from destruction. The Creatures of death roaming freely among the planets surface and killing off those who fight back, a war one that must be stopped or left to die in blood.
1. Prolgue 1

**Snuff**

Requiem of Struggle

Scovern, VroneGard

The doll lay in the dirt, forgotten and abandoned. No longer cared about. One of its hands broken off, stuffing showing from within where the tear had come to slash through. So much lost and broken. lost in a corrupt world of death and destruction. and the small things that could mean so much mean very little and never show up again. And those whoa re lost do not come home to the loved ones. They do rise again to fight. They lay dead and never to wake. Gone. And while we rest and sleep.. they fight for their lives.

A little girl walked with her father. The father, frightened, trying to get his daughter out of the city before it was too late. Before the war caught a hole on them. The Sylithean trying to take down the Abyloct mantle. But that would involve killing Satherone, the Valeküre of the Abylocts. the little girl followed as fast as she could, "Wait papa! Wait up!" He slowed and she caught up to him. She looked at him and said, "Where's Reich?" The father shook his head, "Reich is busy little one.. He is helping Satherone Valeküre and Waiting on I. We must get you to your mother. Quickly." He seemed quick, worried, afraid.

"Why do they hate us Papa?!" called the girl, So afraid and knelt down quickly, seeing something lying on the ground. "Why do they try to kill us?" Sher asked as her hands patted over the ground, attempting to find the shape that lay so in its lonesome, broken way. Wide-eyed and blind to that sight. Wanting to grab hold of the doll that seemed so interesting to her. She wanted it because she may have nothing int he end and to have something to remind her of this place would be enough. Even a stone, but this was more interesting then a simple rock. It was a doll. Her pale fingertips curled around it.

A figure crouched nearby,"Because they do not understand. The world will crumble without the Zrydin. Without it, there will be just the absence of life. But they want to hunt those who can use it. Those like us. Never trust them to accept you. Never trust them. Stick to your own kind. Else suffer." The man watched her as she held the small broken doll. He had answered her question, watching as he father walked on, not looking back to see if his small child was following. Or had he? Or.. Was he just not there?

"Where are the others?" she questioned softly, her fae features turning dejected and hugging the little stuffed toy to her. Covered in dirt. As was she. She paid attention to the man, not her father whom she had seen and now had not..As were the bodies on the ground. The man walked to her, smiling gently, the smile faded, "Hunting," said the figure, with a pat upon the dark-locked child's head.

Her Father was not there.. Nigh was Reich. Both were dead.

---

_May haps dying is what it takes, to wake up. It was a blur for awhile: the colors all mingling together, but there was red too. A warm hue. I was scared. Confused. Held down in binds that would not let up on me. I wanted out and screamed to be free of them, but that did not come either. I hated this feeling. Trapped... It screamed. Stuck in this forever._

_He was there.... but he is already dead._

_I realized that awhile ago, a few days after my eyes had become open and I, aware. His passage was mourned. It still is. For even though he breathes, he is not the same man anymore: his spirit is... different. It might not be seen on the surface, but he is changed. He is more deadly. Craving what I have, this power in my bones. He holds me here to die as he feeds off me.. He is already dead._

_Who he was, is gone. Dead and withered._

_I rue._

_It does not matter to me anymore, what he does, or what he thinks. A ghost of memory I might have been, but a specter in life he has become, behind a guise of smile and forced hope. The man I see, is not the one I carry in my memories. I am tired of his fetid life. He abuses me, I bear the scars, I stand no longer as his leverage. I leave him to rest in peace. Without my presence. It makes it bearable, that way. And in my heart I will remember the brighter days, the light of his smile, and the sound of his laughter amongst the boughs of the trees when he was still alive._

_Its always this way. The quiet afore the storm comes. And what a storm it will be, but I will not be there to be struck by the blows that rain from the heavenly skies. I walk away... For the cries I know are coming, and my ears are full of such things already. They will not have the power to combat it. I wonder - hesitate for a moment and think if I should stay to help them: Then again, comes the voices of reproach and angst at my presence, and I turn away ultimately. Going my own course. Let them fight their wars, and die alone. Let them live their lives of lies and deceit. It matters not to me._

_I'll protect the ones with the light still in their hearts. The ones who chose to walk besides me. Few, but they are there. They will make the difference in the future. Friends? I'll cover their eyes, from the death. Their ears, from the screams of the restless. Their hearts, from the sorrow of loss. For them... We'll escape from the dying breaths and claws of the maimed before they are felled by the darkling. And felled they will be. By the darkest of the dark. Evil they have called me. But true evil they will see. And it resides not in my heart. Nor will it ever be spread, by my hand._

_But its death will be met, if it treads close. Even if I had no power and my body was shattered... I would fight it with my last breath. Such words, even though my sentiment is that violence is a wasted thing. Saying this as: I can sow destruction like a scythe over the fields -- Is that so? Is that well? It sounds a bit troublesome, to me. Yet I will become stronger. The will to preserve is not brought on by self motivation, but the yearning to protect what is important._

_Leave us. Leave us to our solace._

_The world to me, is made out of light._

_Do not disturb me, I plead. Let us walk,_

_in quiet and peace._

_His emerald eyes glittered as he splashed into the water, and my laughter grew with him splashing liquid on me. It was here, that there will be a peaceful haven one day. Amongst the glittering rivers, and the high-arching treetops. Past the valleys of mists. A place I can find. Not all is lost due to the darkness, and the darkness is just an absence of light if one thinks of it in such a way. Not seeing the world as others do, has never bothered me. He is different too. He sings to the moonlight and praises the stars. I lay down at his feet, and yawn. The world is better from that angle . No faces met with my sights, just the shuffling boots of those who come and go._

_He is filled with sorrow. He hides it behind the light of his eyes, the smile on his face... but as always I feel it. For awhile, I feared it would overtake him as he boasted words of pain to his enemies. But now he is settling, as I am. Twin rivers, flowing in the same direction. He decided to come. A guardian for him, too, will come. _

_I am glad._

_They both will do well without the smog of the city clouding their eyes and bringing up tears. They have been weeping, even though not always openly. I will protect them. Why does it seem, that everyone is crying? I will curb their tears. The trees are still out there, and the depths of the streams, reflect the light that shine from the suns that still shine. I think of this, and for awhile, I am settled slightly. Scovern remembers the times that were and remind us with the stirring leaves. "Look. Look.. listen. The world still lives." I imagine... He would say something such as that._

_I will show them. And at some time... I will thank them. For having faith in me and my turbulent spirit, which only now is starting to root itself in hope for the future. Friends?(... I remember ... I was happy at that time. Even though, we were hunted, and the world was filled with hate. I was happy... with the tales told, the long hours into the night, and the sense that after everything, I was not alone.)_

_No matter what. I was not alone. Nor am I now. Thank you, after all.._

_The Guardian, the Shield.. he's been changing. He use to be confused and lost, but now his feet are starting to become rooted, and he stands taller in some ways. Occasionally he angers at things, but such cannot be helped in this world of ours. Justice and righteousness, dissolved. Sometimes he whispers softly into my ear, but I must turn my head away. It strikes a cord in my heart, and its but a melancholic one. My spirit weeps. I remember, the times gone._

_I cannot give to him such things. I cannot give to him, what most souls crave for. My heart will not permit it of me. It dwells, in another time. In another place. On things that were, and have been. So instead, I grant to him my smiles, and attempt not to let him see me in angst. I give to him, the joy of my spirit, the rush of my words as they tell of things I have seen in the day. I give to him, my hopes for peace. He pats me on the head, and understands. He is not as simple as he seems._

_The darkness did take me. No metaphors, or poetic words for the ear just the plain, simple matter. It choked the life out of my spirit, and for awhile... there was just black afore my eyes. For awhile...I could retreat into it. We all moved to our freedom, to our peace: but still the withers of word and craven of the city follow after us, asking "why, why, do you go? Tell us your secrets, tell us your whims. why do you form an 'army'?"_

_They do not understand. For them, there always needs to be a malicious, twisted reason about something. We are here for our peace, and one day it will transcend that, and we will have our Haven. And there.. none may tread but those who harbor the light of hope in their heart._

_There is no army. No vice. No malice. No darkness. Foolish... why?_

_So leave us be, ye things of the night, and hurtful words and above all, you things of pretense and pretend. Demons, and their concubines. I've been wondering if I could carry through with my conviction, what would happen if I found one of the creatures in this peaceful place attempting to disturb our solace. And then one came. Full of show, and pretty words. I did not lift my hand in the end. I never would have, regardlessly. Not even a veil afore my eyes, can change that. Though its a hazy thing.. a hazy thing. But I do remember, the angst at seeing them. I once believed in them. The anger (odd for me, I do not feel that... often- then again, it was not 'me') that this one dared tread here: for they were_ _one of the many who cried,'Evil, evil' in the city. One of the many, who would spit on me. One of the many... I once called friend._

_I know -I- wanted to hide... behind the couch, behind one of them, and weep softly, as a betrayer came. I recall the fierce resolve to protect what I hold dear. Even the one whom wears so, the scowl on his face. I wanted to protect his heart. For a heart that struggles to beat is in need of as much protection as someone weak and frail. And he is one of the ones I would protect forever. I am aware that its not me. Its something that occurred after the awakening of my eyes. I feel too much - be it from my Valeküre, or my Combined sights, and in that its the darkness, the evil (the lusts, and the whims, and the treacherous delivered on others), the lies of others that floods me, and I in turn, respond with a shield whilst I drown. Something to keep me afloat._

_They do not understand... I do not mean to. I do not want to. I miss...how it use to be...Sometimes I am scared. I consider blinding myself. I blinked, though moisture's veil - and found the trusted afore me, shaking me."Satherone," he pleaded, and I wondered... why he was crying. I was too, I realized. I wanted to reach out, and pat him gently upon the head, to tell him that everything was well in the world. And so I did. He was not afraid of me. I have so much faith in them. In all of them... go away, shadow. I ... am aware.. of you. I can fight my own wars. But.. I do not need to. They are here, for me. " it's not your fault--none of it is."_

_What was a tree, simmered afore the black-haired youth. Blind eyes, blinking at the sight of charred log, and long ears quivering at the hiss of smoldering embers that was elicited into the air. A hand reached up, absently, grasping onto an earlobe as a child would on a strand of hair, and brought it into her mouth to nibble upon."consequences," she murmured in muffled tones to herself."consequences," echoed the voice from behind her_

_---_

_The bloodied Axe-wielder, drenched in that stench of death and fitted with words of indignation and self appointed righteousness, passed through the Outpost once again. He paused for awhile, as he spotted me, and words did flow easily from his maw. Telling of things of lies, and tricks, and the same lull, I have heard a hundred thousand times from him. I did not respond. He can sing his tune - as I grow tired of it and my heart fades in regard of him. He is a stream, which never stops its babble._

_I remember Lithium..._

_The only way to make it end, is to tear apart the flow. But, this place, shall become a peaceful one, and to spill blood on the ground, is not something that I want. No. He knows now, this is our home, and he has the intelligence, to stay away. That I believe in. Ours and his, is a world apart. Let us live ours in peace... please... I release the past. I think of the Ghost. He and his suffering from Valeküre. But he has been flaunting it too openly, under the eyes of the many, and mayhap this is the Gods retribution upon him for doing so. Tapping into Valeküre is dipping hands into Their well. The people blame me - as I was present at the time, hazily. "She culled his voice from him with magic," they say. She says: the same one who set foot in our home. I ponder of attempting to heal him from his ails, but I cannot breach the crowds._

_Lament my heart, at the thought of such. It is my creed, and I cannot change it. He has been lost to me... and the memories that lay in my heart and mind, are just that alone, memories. His soul, has long since shifted into something, someone, else. I do not know him. May he find peace, amongst his own. He grows strong. He is not as young, as he appears, I sometimes believe. I wonder if its my_ teaching _that reaches him, yet what have I taught, that has not been said from in the grips of the dark, I wonder? Has he learned anything, from watching me in the forest ? Does he feel, peace at all? Or is it merely the manifestation of sorrow that enacts as strength upon him. Such it is on me._

_I want to be myself with him. To lay in the grasses in slothful manner, whilst he catches fish at the pond. I want the others to be there too, all of us, together._

_He is as I was. Just.. like I use to be. I am so proud of him...The other young one, is eager to learn. Already he is collecting things, and presenting to me, asking of their purpose, their use. He wants so much, to be an success and do things. Find out, everything, anything new. So I will tell him, slowly, and carefully, for doing one thing wrong, can result in everything going askew from there. But show him, I shall, and make sure he does not burn his hand in the process of Valeküre._

_Rakentus is changing. He's becoming more bold. More... more open. He is becoming, stronger. Like me, he suffered after seeing the world as it is, but unlike me, it did not have an averse affect upon him. He is determined to protect me, shield my eyes, from the sights of chaos, blind me to such things, so that I wouldst not have to change, and become a thing of harshness, and spite to fit in with the darkness of colors around myself. I.. am thankful. Joyful._

_Often, I curl up into a small ball besides him, and that is how I spend my nights. Snug before the pillows, with the smell of iris's in the air. The others, sleep upstairs, and we watch over them from below, waiting for the time, when we can have our own place to call home - with the walls, and the corners, and the little plants that I will scatter around. _

_The stoic-faced one's face softens more often. Though I do not know what he will - what they will, think of me after what happened of late. I hope... they wouldn't not shun me. For its when I came to myself once again, and I was weeping so, that I realized I might have lost much._

_I do not want to lose him, for under all the guarded manner he gives, he has a good heart._

_I want to protect him._

_I believe that peace will make him happy. he too.. I will take to the place, where the trees grow tall, in the hearts of hearts, and speak of a future to come. Only one have I shown. The bright-eyed one, who's run at my side through brambles and berries, and by the waters of the deep-running streams._

---

He isn't like he was... No longer that smiling face she had come to know. No longer that man whom had sat upon her saddle. He was now something different. A tyrant. Ruling over Scovern like a monster. He drove the people and land to far and they could do nothing. They did not fight back, they could not. They tried. Only one had the power to stop him though. He knew it too, he kept her chained down.. The one that had sat upon her saddle kept her in chains, to the ground, the stone cold ground and aching thing on her body. She hissed at him when he came near. He merely smiled. That once beautiful smile, now corrupt and destroyed! How she hated him! She had loved him! He had been her other half, her heart, she had protected him with her own life and he sold her out. Having her chained down. She growled at him. She would not pity him.

He walked forward, smiling at her as he looked up at her eyes. They swirled with the hues of red, vermilion, crimson, all of them. She snarled at him as he gained closer, closer then he had yesterday and the day before. Too close.. Way to close. For him. She snarled and he spoke, "You.. You are a wyrm.." She hissed at him, tail lashing in the chains. He smiled, "You are so easily manipulated, you! Satherone Valeküre! Creator of Scovern! I have beaten you down and now you are mine to control! I am not yours, you are mine!"

Satherone snarled, snapping her jaws, '_I never claimed you as mine. I treated you as a child of my own. As a rider. As a partner. And You did this to me. You are malevolent. You are craving for power.. You are a monster.' _She snarled, eyes narrowed in their way. The orb in her chest tightened with the cords that held around it. the markings on her bones glowing with her rage. Satherone snarled, '_You are a murderer. A pillager, a defender of your own soul and not those of your people... Rakentus, you are vermin.'_ Rakentus snarled, eyes blazing with fury. But Satherone did not stop, _'You are a pitiful Human. All of them are.. Humans are fetid, and as are you. you have shown me that much Rakentus. I cannot trust you. I will not trust you. You will die. I will kill you. I am not to stand by and watch you ruin this home... You will die. I will make sure of it.'_

Rakentus growled, "You will do no such thing."

_'You feed off me.. You take my power for you greed for it. You deserve no life.'_

"I will kill you."

_'You would not.'_

"I would."

_'Liar. You have not the strength to kill me.'_

"..."

_'That is what I thought... All bark, no bite. You won't fool me twice Rakentus.'_

Rakentus backed away in fear. He growled at her and she smiled, he hadn't backed away far enough.. She lunged. The chains strained and creaked at movement, she roared, Rakentus seeing the rows of sharp teeth, blood stained and rotting smell. He felt her breath. Saw her eyes, Consumed by it all. He was not fast enough. Her jaws closed on him. She hissed, her claws on the ground, planted down despite her being one whom walks upon the toes and claws of her paws. Her teeth stained with fresh blood. Blood of her Betraying rider. She shook him like a rag doll, then let go, his body, broken and bleeding, crashed into the ground, blood pouring on the ground. Satherone snarled, her eyes swimming with blood lust. She snarled and hissed, '_I told you.. I will kill you.'_

The Requiem of Struggle had begun.

The tidal wave had broken, the winds lashed, VroneGard's annihilation day had begun with but a simple action from a hurt soul. A dog can only take so much till it snaps, biting the hand that feeds it, and thats exactly what had happened, Satherone had snapped and gave way to the power of the mantle, to the strength and homicidal mind of what Rakentus had locked away, she was Showing her true colors.

Satherone snarled, her jaw clenched, teeth locked together, th fleshy lip rising over tooth and gum, a smile in her eyes and jaws, striking fear into those around her. Each of her black scales began to glow around the edges a brilliant vermilion crimson color; like a plague it spread from the edges to the center, glowing brightly, burning. The scales and flesh on her body were burning and she reflected a brilliant blood red star. The blinding light began to die away, revealing the black bones covered with dark blood, her flesh rotting away and strips and chunks clinging on as the Entytè tore away at it. Saliva dripped from her teeth and jaws, clinging to the upper and lower gums. Venom dripping from the primary fangs. Blood began to seep from her bones, her jaws, the blood striking the ground and causing smoke to rise, and the ground freeze over from her point of standing. The men below her scrambled away in fear and awe of her, growling her claw sank into the ground and cracks broke through, like a bone fracture they appeared. She growled and snapped open her four wings, the sun turned her crimson wings to a wine red color, Her wings of blood as then below attempted to chain her, to hold her as Rakentus had: prison.

She cracked her jaws open and screamed in fury at them, her words rang aloud, not telepathically as she normally had done, "You think I will be subjected to this mockery?" She demanded, " I bow down to no one! No one commands me, I decide my own fate and Scovern's. I decide fate as it is in my blood, I am the creator of Scovern and you know this, you see it! I am the rightful heir to the throne and mantle, I am fear and raw power. You hold no Ground over me, no Authority. Although..." and now she calmed, slightly, " I am merciful, Abylocts who hear my voice, rise against them, take back our home, stand by me, i will take you under my wing with no second though, as I will others. WE must take back our home and land. We must show the Sylithean what we are, show them the raw power of the plague and scourge."

The cowered from her in fear, those who were not brave enough to face ger. Those who stood their ground and looked up to her. Satherone knew those who had fled would not help her, but nigh would they go against her. Only hide like cowards they were. Satherone snarled and looked at the shackles on her body, Gripping tightly to her legs, her neck, her tail. She hissed, those on her wings had shattered when she had broke loose. She rammed her skeletal black tail into the ground, shattering the metal band clinging to it. She hissed and flexed her clawed foot, staring at the metal band with hate, she smiled and clenched her claws, like a fist, the tension pushing against the band, it cracked and shattered, she did this with the others as well. the metal iron was no match for Satherone. She growled and jerked her head, how to get the one on her neck, it was at the base of her skull, it would not break, she hissed and shook her head violoently, it would have to rot away. She could go on forever, it could not,

Satherone snarled and rammed her tail into the stone of the castle again, hissing in rage she launched herself into the air, her wings thundering as she gained altitude, her wing joints turning and twisting, pivoting in their sockets. She hissed, hovering in place, her neck arched and she cracked open her jaws and unleashed a blood curdling scream of rage and war. The pitch began to rise above that of a normal a=Abyloct, shattering the sound barrier. It rang loud to all those far and near, it was a terrible sound to hear fir it was one of war and death, and one of misery and despair, for she screamed not only for vengeance and renew, but for Rakentus as well, to have him back, the old him. What he _used_ to be.

Vronegard stirred all over, the species of Dragons, Abyloct, Vlykyn, Sylithean, Mokyn, and hysteria woke and began to choose sides, quickly. Hysteria retreated in fear to their home land, their haven, Mokyn stood, helping only those who asked of their help, but picking no sides; Sylithean rose against the Abylocts, some even going to the Abylocts to help. Vlykyn chose to be cowards, that Satherone knew, they ran to the Sylithean for Protection, only few standing to help their kind, being cowards they were. Satherone hissed and shunned them in rage. Abylocts had to choose, help or hide? many helped their kin, others hid to the Syithean as Vlykyn had, others..just..hid... gone. Those who came, she would take under her wings and hold them safe, yes she would, she did not choose favorites, but she would strike down any who tried to stop her... Any.

Every creature answered her call, whether by running, defiance, or alliance they responded and chose. Being driven by fear, hate, rage, repulsion, they came and fled, they hated and loved. they thrived all the same. Some thought she a murderer, others did not, but thought her as a savior. A symbol of the new world, the new beginning. Scovern's new start. Those who shunned and despised her, they didn't know her side of the story, they had no room to speak to her the way they would and had. To them, she was treason, a traitor by the very core of Scovern, the very creator, the life and soul:  
Satherone Valeküre.

Sylithean were already raging a constant war against the Abyloctian race, trying to break them down so that they could claim the Abyloct homeland, Serra. The Abylocts although, Stood tall and refusing to back down pushed them back from their home, stubborn as their leader was. Held strong by their leaders, Satherone and Rakentus. Now though, Rakentus was dead, could they still stand by Satherone with the same loyalty as before? Could they be held up by her? Could they look to her for support and help, could they stand by her as they were known for, the strongest Army, the strongest force upon Scovern, the Horde of VroneGard, the living Plague, or were they doomed to die and be enslaved by the Sylithean race?

Satherone snarled, her jaws snapping shut. her scream echoing as it faded away, fading into the darkness. Her tail lashed in the red sky of blood, the brilliant orb in her chest began to fade deeper into the vermilion-crimson red, like blood, the mists copying as if it was blood spreading, seeping across the floor. The orb, also known as a Zrydin, was their life source, the replacement for an Abyloct's organs. An Abyloct has no need for organs, stomach, nothing, for they feed off death and blood, they live off of it and consume it quickly. Zrydin hold their life and power. Vlykyn though, they are different and yet the same. They have a Zrydin, but it goes by a different almost simialr name, Zidren. Zidren are dead. Zidren are blackened hearts, blackened Zrydin, dead Zrydin. They hold nothing but death and its powers. A Vlykyn feeds off the same, seething in corruption, they love it. They are the doomed souls of the lost. Meant to live separate for what they did to the Abylocts, for breaking off and betraying them they are lost. Lashing against the code that kept all within the power Satherone gave. It was horrid to have one's Zrydin taken, like ripping out one's heart and never sewing up the wound, letting one bleed to death in pain, down in agony. Having a Zidren was the same way, nothing left, not even a memory, no will to stand or fight, to live or die. Nothing to one's name. Many Vlykyn were slaves to their own riders and kind.

Satherone thrust her wings to her sides and shot off like an arrow in the sky, She snapped her left bottom wing open, wind filling it, pushing against the membrane worn from tear and use, from all kinds of weather, bad and good, sun and rain. She tilted to her right side as she opened her jaws and released another of her screeching roars for war and blood. Her tail hammered in the air like a rudder, she snapped her jaws shut violently and listened to the answering calls from those below and above, from far and near, she listened as her kin chose their sides.

Growling, satherone's eyes scanned below her to the ground, her sight shifting so she could see better, clearer, her sight literally magnified. She saw a dragon, he was a brilliant shade of amethyst purple, and he looked right up at Satherone, he saw her, saw the blood colored Zrydin in her chest, held to the bones with vines and cords. Satherone snarled, hovering above him, each one of her bones began to glow a brilliant bright white in color, it obscured her, making her seem like a bright star in a bloody sky with a dead sun. The color began to fade away, leaving Satherone's body, but she was different. Armor covered her body, it rested on her jaws, upper and lower, separated so she could snap and bite, down her neck and along her shoulder blades, it ran down her spine, leaving her wings free, it struck down her tail to the deadly hammer of a weapon, spikes striking out in a spiral. Armor along her claws and legs, she growled as the black armor gave some weight, her eyes not even covered by it nor her nostrils. A saddle rested in the injunction of her shoulders and spinal cord. A breast plate along her chest, she growled.

The Amythest Dragon below growled and lept into the air, his rider clutching onto the saddle horn. Growling the Dragon became level with Satherone, his flesh and scale began to glow bright purple as Satherone's had, burning away. His bones were deep purple as his scales had been, tge mists in his body a redish purple in color, his claws and horns, spikes, were all black, the wing mebrane a lilac purple. No armor covered him, an advantage and disadvantage. He was more nimble, more agile then Satherone, but he was not as well protected as she was and she was Scovern's creator, she could strike him down easily if she tried. She could make clean work of him. Satherone snarled, _Prychoke.  
__Satherone_ The Dragon answered, revulsion in his voice.

Satherone gave a curt nod to her friends, or what was once her friends, _Greetings, runeblade Syrin._ She said to the Dragon's rider. The Rune maker, Syrin, made no response to her words or voice, only sat stiff in the saddle. This puzzled Satherone, he was normally cheerful around her, he was one of those people that no matter how bad things had or could have gotten, he found the joy. He was the light in the dark, the rune in the plane canvas, he was one whom you would want around when you were in pain or misery. Now though, he and his Dragon, Prychoke, they seemed so Serious. Satherone spoke, calmly she asked, _Why so serious?_  
_You._ Prychoke snarled, his tone not at all calm or friendly, not welcoming.  
_What of me?_ Satherone growled, her calm, friendly tone becoming defensive as she saw what he meant.  
_You committed treason against VroneGard, against Scovern, against all of us!  
Did I?  
If murder of your own rider is not treason,then the Abyloct code of which we follow is nothing but a fairy tale told to scare children, a worthless heap of trash.  
You are wrong in that Prychoke, the code is very much real, alive, it limits us, you of all should know that.  
Then You admit to treason?_ Prychoke Scolded, his voice, venom.  
_Yes, i do, but at the same time, no.  
What do you mean 'no'.  
Is it truly treason when your rider holds you captive in chains and feeds off your power? Wanting ever more of it over and over till it kills him in the end? He would not listen to my reason and took more and more, I gave him peace by ending his lust and want, ending it before he took so much that he was killed slowly._ Satherone's tone was worse then Prychoke's was to her, she was angered by his defiance, being a friend and betraying her like this, treating her like a dog, acting like something that would kill her at first chance. She hissed at the thought.

_He attempted none of murder._ Prychoke spat at her.  
_He wanted to.  
What do you mean by that?  
I am his dragon am I not? I saw into his mind, and knew all! All that he wanted! Knew his dreams and thoughts, his true colors that he tried to conceal from me and the world. He wanted Death on all of us Dragons, not just one race, he thought we were all corrupted madness all because one Dragon killed his family. He despised us, before that he was peaceful and loving.  
You are malevolent.  
I am Scovern.  
No one is.  
You go against me? call me a liar?  
Yes, I do.  
So you say you shall kill me?  
That is all that is left.  
Traitor.  
You are one to speak._ Prychoke Snarled with clenched jaws and gritted teeth. He flew slowly by her. Satherone followed, flying by him as he waited her answer. It came all to fast for his own liking. Satherone's jaws cracked open and she roared, lunging at him, getting a hold on his vulnerable neck before he could get free. His skeletal body squirmed in pain and he writhed, attempted to get free. He screamed, his jaws open fully in agony as Satherone's iron grip increased in pressure, crushing bone as teeth pierced the Vilion metal of his hide. Syrin screamed in shared pain of his Dragon, lashing out with his sword, RyneBlud, the tip grazed Satherone's shoulder armor, scratching it, glancing off with sparks. Satherone snarled, eyes staring at Syrin as she kept her iron grip on Prychoke's throat. How could you know that an Abyloct dragon looked at you in their skeletal form? They had no eyes, only the pits with mist rising from them. It was as if something, they, were staring right into your very soul. A smile crept into Satherone's eyes.

Syrin's eyes widened in fear as Prychoke screamed in agony, Satherone growled, _Hear him scream? You fail to protect him against me, danger. You deserve death many times over. I will bring it to you as I am Death. I will snuff out your life as I have and will so many more. I will snuff you out like a candle along with Prychoke. Goodnight my old friends._ Prychoke creamed and jerked against Satherone, refusing to give in, his wings thrashed in her grip. He snapped his jaws together and wrenched in her grip again. Satherone snarled and broke bone, venom filling into the blood stream of Prychoke's bones. He would die one way or another unless another Abyloct gave him their blood to stop the Avyn Venom from killing him.

A bellow shattered the sky, one of hate and rage, disbelief. Satherone growled and looked down, not loosening her grip on Prychoke's neck. Her tail lashed as she saw a riderless dragon wight not even a saddle or armor, His bones a shade of forest green, the mists around his Zrydin a brilliant color of Emerald Green. His torn and battered wings a shade of green-yellow, the spikes, horns, and claws a deep coal black. He twisted till he flew parallel with Satherone and Prychoke who squirmed in agony. Satherone snarled, becoming distracted, her grip actually _loosened_ on Prychoke's throat. He took his chance at freedom, twisting in her grasp, his claws clutched onto her throat and before she could realize what he had done, his jaws closed on her black boned throat and he held her trapped. Syrin wielding RyneBlud in case Satherone attempted a Struggle, he had a clear shot to her eyes and lower throat.  
She didn't fight back.

The green Dragon snarled at Satherone, his skeletal body lethal, he was an Abyloct yes, but without any rider, he was one of the few who were wild and could live with the void in their heart and mind of no rider. He growled with hate at Satherone,_ You have destroyed our namesake.  
No, I haven't._ Satherone growled, not struggling against Prychoke.  
_What do you mean, 'no'._ The dragon said, echoing Prychoke's words, his forest green bones brilliant in the dark red of VroneGard's bloody sky.  
_What I mean is this: I didn't shame the Abyloct Name. bu Rakentus' name-sake.  
I told you, Warned you not to trust a human.  
I thought I would change him._ Satherone Confessed, _Besides, he wasn't always like that._  
_No human changes._  
_You are wrong, he did change._  
_He never had a good heart, he played you.  
You would know?  
I would.  
Prove it._ Satherone challenged. He couldn't go up to it, he couldn't answer, Satherone smiled at his defeat. She attuned to Prychoke, _Release me._  
_No.  
why not?  
Why should I? So you may harm my rider and I again?  
I will kill you.  
That helps none._ The Green dragon hissed.  
_Watch your tongue Syndinile, none of this involves you._ Satherone growled.  
_You are wrong there._ Syndinile retorted.  
_How?_ Satherone growled, as Prychoke was thrust into silence along with Syrin, forced to listen to the argument and hold Satherone captive. His teeth did not pierce Satehroen's armor or her hide. He felt useless, but needed to try, he knew Syndinile could kill her, break her down.  
_How not? All of this points to one thing Satherone: You have lost it all. You have gone mad. The power of the mantle has gone to your mind and corrupted you.  
No, it hasn't/ I have done what I did for the sake of VroneGard.  
Liar.  
No, I do not. It holds a burden on me to lie. Something you will never understand.  
What?  
Exactly, you have no rider, no burden, nothing to live for, no one to see who you really are and what you hide. You can lie. I can not.  
So why do I breathe?  
I can end it.  
You wouldn't._ Syndinile hissed in fear.  
_Do you think you can stop me?_ Satherone growled,_ I killed my own rider, I have no problem ending the life of my own brother._


	2. Prologue 2

**Germany**

_**During World War 2**_

James struggled and Sethla closed her eyes, holding James close. _I swear it.._ James whimpered and fought against her, trying to break free of Sethla; he screamed for his mother. Struggling but failing. Screaming and screaming out mutter over and over. Sethla hissed and tried to stop him from screaming, but he continued. She hummed, _No little one.. They will come! They will hurt you! Hush child! _James screamed again and she tried to keep him still. Had they heard him scream?

Of course they had, something always went wrong.

Sethla hissed and tensed, smelling them first, the hearing them. They rank of death and blood. She growled as they came near. Hisses escaped her throat and she snarled. James froze as she did. Her neck arched, _Stay close.. _James did. Afraid. He saw them come, saw them and he trembled. Sethla growled and stood by him, rather over him. She hissed and snapped her jaws angrily. Hissing in rage, her tail lashed and she growled as they got close. Her teeth bared, the lip rising over them. They walked cautious. She growled, neck arched. James held close to her. They smiled at them.

How would they get James from her?

Easily. Nazis were bred as killers by their Führer, learning every grisly way to execute a man without emotion. Without feeling their breath being taken away and exerted. They put them out of their misery. Exertion of prize. Sethla may have hope, but against Nazi Regime and their sly, fox tactics? It was a challenge. The puzzle was in front of her eyes: the Nazi men coming for the King pawn. Would she let the pawns and nobles take the king? Or would she fight against "Check Mate" and willingly give her life to save the boy? The decision was made.

Protection.

Razen's words screamed in her head, spilling in her conscience. "Protect him in your wings, Sethla", "For me. And for James. Do what you can to keep him alive... for he is apart of you now. Serve him and only him if I die. You will know when the time comes. When he is ready to become yours as I die. You will know..." Right there and then, she did know. Men in black coats, the symbol of blood on their coats with pride, death conveying their eyes in matter of severing glitters of suffering. Drones of the dead, working servants as they followed his rules, obeying every last order Death commanded and yelled. Breakneck. A horror. Little men they were - men of no honor, no shame, no deception. Just blood, misery, death... with little hope.

James wrapped his arms around her thick, scaly leg, embracing his body with fear, know it was the end. Closing his eyes, sealed shut, light unable to pierce through. He squeezed tighter and tighter with his hands and arms, embracing more strongly and open hearted. Sethla roared in feral rage, her eyes in raging turmoil, mustering what she could produce. Hisses escaped through her teeth, blood pooling inside her jaws from clamping on her teeth. The blood trickled in rivers down the lower jaw, dripping from the edges and the tip round corner of the jaw. It was a face off... between Nazi, dragon, and Rider.

Lowering her head, bending the joints in her front limps, Sethla's body slowly lowered closer to the ground, her tail lashing bluntly in anger, rising to its peek. Veins tensed, bulging from the condense straining, pulling against the nerves and muscles. Brain and conscience was wild with fury, unable to think properly, let alone even speak. James screamed in anguish, tears welling i his eyes, streaming down his soft, pale white cheeks. Sethla did what she could to protect James, the young child of his mother. Sethla's rider. Snarling, the boy wouldn't just stop crying. There was no end to it all. Constant bawling and screaming, crying for mutter. Razen as no hope now. Gone she was... for so they thought.

It was hope now. Hope Runs Deep. Thoughts racing, heart pounding, the beat unable to keep up. Her pupils dilated, growing smaller to the size of a grain of sand. Sparks of deadly rays of red fired in her eyes in boiling turmoil, dashing hues of blood and death in every stringed line. Every noticeable touch of deepened massacre.

She snapped.

Spine arched, spikes fringing, blood dripping off the tips of every single one, running down the rim. Teeth bared in a feral snarl, Sethla cracked her jaws open, saliva stringing own fro the upper jaw, clinging to the flat top of her tongue - bloody and coated. A growl sounded from deep inside her throat, thrusting a roar through her mouth, exploding in a thundering sound. Shattering the sound barrier with every climb of her tone, her tail lashing from side to side, hammering to the earth, breaking the solid crust of the soil. She would protect James, even by all means of death. He would have to survive. He has to survive. He has to live. James Ryan Jericho Lecter... wasn't going to die.

The Nazis shot back, eyes narrowed on Sethla, one only spotting James. A vile smile crept on his face, signaling some of his comrades. Lucky for them, they were near a boulder that could conceal their bodies from her line of sight, pending their attack on her and James. Capturing the boy and getting what they deserved. All they came here for was for the child. If someone had to die, they would do it, and so they did with every insane fiber of heir being. Laughing dead. Nazis were the laughing dead. Zombies of forced controlling, thriving for blood and control.

Arching her spine, like a cat hissing and clawing at it's opponent. Snarling, the lip furling over her teeth, Sethla slammed her tail against the ground in retort. James ran up to her, holding her by the leg, eyes widening in fear. The sight of the Nazis, men of death and blood, standing in front of them, surrounded. Fear gripped him, taking his breath away. Choking on his own words. Sethla lowered her head, wrenching her sight fro the Nazis to James. Narrowing her eyes, concerned, she whipped past, seeing as the Nazis came even closer. Standing her grounds she by all means had only one option: retaliation. But, not from them. Oh, never. She had to flee. Yes. Flee. She had to _fly._

Clamping her jaws on James' shirt, Sethla pulled him on her spine, securing him with a spike in front of him and behind, perfect leverage for the child. _Hold on tight, and by God, don't let go._ Raising her wings in the air, giving her last roar in rage, Sethla leaped from her hind legs, pushing off as she launched into the sky. Flapping her wings to gain higher altitudes, she leveled out, looking below at the scattered enemies. Vermin in her eyes. Pulling one of her wings close to her right flank, she dove, twisting her body as she flew parallel with the ground. James closed his eyes, holding into the spike for dear life. A smile flickered in her eyes, but it didn't last long. Snarling with anticipation, Sethla veered to the left, voiding being snagged in the wing by an incoming arrow. Shifting in his spot, James looked below, fearing for his life. He began to squirm, trying to get higher on her body, away.

Sethla snarled, looking back._ Would you sit still boy! How could your mother ever handle you? You never listen. _She snapped. Glaring, she snapped her jaws, fixed on James. Looking into her eyes, he saw his own reflection in her sanguined eyes of bloody terror. He was silent, motionless_. If you don't stop squirming i will force you to sit still_. Whipping her head from his gaze, Sethla sailed over the lands, the Nazis fleeing. Smiling, she descended, flying higher. Snapping her wings open, the membranes straining against the fingers of her wings, wind breaking against them, she leveled out freely, balancing out hers and James' weight in the sky.

Shaking her head, the sounds of whirling bullets pierced the sky, unable to decipher the origin. A whistling noise came next. Before she could react a hurling arrow shot through the air, slicing through the clouds with a burning passion. Shrieking, snapping her wings at her flanks, Sethla tried to doge the whirling arrow, but it struck her in the chest, piercing though the flesh. _HOW?_ She snarled, her scream converting into a whine of pain. Grabbing the arrow by the shaft with her front paws, claws and finger curling around the arrow, she ripped it out for her chest, clumps of black flesh on the head of the arrow. Shaking her head, weary, Sethla descended lower from the sky, hurling arrows flying past their view. James was out of range, buried inside of her neck and the crest of her back.

Veering from right to left, another arrow pierced through her leg, two more through the wing membranes. Roaring in agony, Sethla began to loose balance and control, wings pinned against her flanks. The arrows began to immobilize her, unable to stay a loft in the sky. James screamed, Sethla unable to find words to calm the boy. Hissing, trying to pull her wings, nets of wires shot through the clouds, slamming against her flanks they pinned her wings against her flesh. Unable to break through the metal, Sethla hurled through the sky, unstable. Thrashing her body, she curled her back, preparing for the collision against the hard earth.

Closing her eyes, Sethla plummeted to the ground, spine hammering against the soil. James as thrown from her back, sliding against the dirt, back clashing with a boulder. Sethla screeched in rage, pain seducing her, call her its own. Pain lanced down her spine, and body, her wings numb and immobile, just like the rest of her body. And James? Where was James. She began to panic. Screeching at the top of her lungs, thrashing and whipping her tail, she was useless. Roaring, shattering the sound barrier she screamed his name:

_**JAMES!**_

----

Razen screamed, holding in all the pain, wanting James. Her voice pierced the air above and below, searing the sound barrier. Clenching her hands into fists, Razen's eyes darted from side to side in worry, chains attached to shackles on her wrists and ankles. All they did was laugh. laugh and placed pity on her. She refused to be held as a captive. One thing Razen hated was being detained. Another... hurting her sons. Placing harm on James made her more volatile than she used to be. She wasn't going to risk it. She knew her dream, the one of losing James, was a sign. A sign of death soon coming upon her once more. Death was triggered to her. It never left her and her family alone. It always came back at her.

_Always._

Snarling, her eyes wild in turmoil of boiling rage, Razen thrashed against the chains, hearing their fetid laughs. Her eyes lit up in feral rage, knowing they could never detain a Seethen. A mother of a child. They will never get him. "You can't have him," she snarled, gritting her teeth.

"And what makes you say that?" a man asked, stepping from the crowd. Her eyes averted to the man, seeing him before, but she couldn't make out how or where. A smile lifted on his face - grim and vile. His eyes tested her, narrowed, black like his heart. "You know nothing stupid women. Your child has no hope." The Nazis behind him laughed, roaring laughter following behind theirs, even the Colonels and Generals were. She snarled, bashing her wrists against the shackles, trying to free from her imprisonment.

"If you take him away from me, I will find you and I will kill you. I don't know what you want with him, but I will surely keep my grudge against that."

"Good luck," he smiled, walking out of the room. Her eyes followed as he left, watching his every movement. The rest of the Nazis crowded around her, exchanging lashing with whips and brutal beatings, but the could never break her down. Never. Razen was hard to force into submission. Breaking down now would be a burden against her, likewise of even loosing James and Marcus.

Glaring, she began to pant, blood streaming down her chest, face, neck, arms, and wrists. "Give in?" one man snarled, holding a cup in his hand, the rest laughing, glaring at her. The men showed no fear... but not until they had met with the Seethen Razen is. The power she contained that could destroy the entire planet and possible if they pushed her far enough... the solar system. They were vermin to her, wretched spineless feebs with no heart. Her eyes boiled, tension straining in her body. Her eyes went wild. She felt the enraged anger of Sethla, feeling her pain_. Do not worry, my dear_, her voice prodded into her mind. Knowing her raked confusion, thinking she was dead, Razen had no time to explain. _I will explain everything later. Just keep holding on. We will be together. I promise._

Sparks of jetting blood swam in her eyes, streaming orbs of wine-red swimming in the pool of bloody massacre. Clenching her hand once more into fists, markings inked onto her flesh. The Nazis and men stepped back, confused. One of the men dropped his glass, shattering to the floor, the liquid pouring from the glass. Her eyes gleamed their colors of sanguine. She had reached her limits of concealing her pain. "Now feel the pain of a worried mother!" She screamed, snapping her wrists against the shackles, pulling the chains out form the walls, snapping them. Standing, her black hair draped in front of her face, her eyes illuminated past her dark, thick hair.

Fleeing to the door, it slammed shut, locked tight. They began to scream in horror, banging their fists against the door, trying to pry it open. But there was no hope. No turning back. She had them_ all_ pinned. The symbols embedded in her flesh, glowing with colors of red and black. None were gold this time. Anger raced down her body, volatile she projected with every feral glare. A smile brewed on her face, the men screaming for their lives. One of them pulled out his gun, aiming at her heart. Her smile grew, exposing her peril white teeth. Pulling the tiger, the gun locked. Slamming the gun, cursing, he tried once more...

_Click_

Nothing happened. They looked at her with horror and fear. "The Nazis expressing fear? What a surprise. I thought you men never show fear. Nevertheless of even feel emotion." Her smile grew, a maniacal smile so vile even the men were shaking in their pants. This is exactly what she wanted: fear. Cracks fled beneath them, covering the floors, red hues peeking through the cracks. Her anger rose and grew, showing she would do anything to save her so and dragon.

From deep inside the house, a sonic wave mustered from below, then a explosion boomed, exploding the home into pieces, chunks of wood, metal and all flying into the air. A cloud formed in the air, curving to form the shape of a mushroom. The men stared in awe, watching as the eruption went off. Razen's rage was not complete. Walking out of the burning home, Razen's eyes gleamed with a raging turmoil of rage and blood, wanting her vengeance against the men responsible. The entire race. Hissing, she walked out of the door, pushing wood out of her way. "Release my son now." She snarled. She knew Sethla's concern and worry, but Razen would never be harmed. She knew how to take care of herself. These men could never harm her. If with luck, even try to kill Sethla and James or even take them from her. She would never allow that to happen.

_Ever._

James was far from now, Nazis were smart... Too smart for their own good... Sethla hissed in feral rage. Tail lashing she began to have some feeling, the immobilization wearing off as the chemicals in her body attacked it. She snarled and thrashed, hissing her eyes swam hues of red from the rage of the now gone James and Razen. She lashed in the hard net over her, it held her pinned like a chain. She growled and snapped her jaws as one of the men got too close to her teeth and he lost an arm. He screamed in blazing agony and staggered back. Sethla's teeth stained red with blood. A vile smile crept onto her jaws ands she hissed. Blood pooling down her throat and into her jaws. She hissed and lashed against the net.

The net groaned in protest from Sethla's intensive thrashing. She hissed and snapped her teeth. Growling in rage her eyes narrowed. She hissed and snapped at the net with her teeth the Nazis doing their best to keep her from doing so. Whips made of sharp metal hitting her and causing her to bleed. And as they did that... It only made their fate much much more worse.

Sethla roared in fury as one caught the side of her face. She roared and her eyes blazed, heat made her throat dry and burn. She hissed and fire crackled in her jaws, she roared, cracking her jaws open fully, the Saliva dripping from her teeth and jaws, fire exploded, like a flame thrower almost. The Nazis screamed in terror and tried to flee the burning turmoil. The burning hate of Sethla Meesha. She snapped her jaws shut and hissed, fighting against the chains as they attempt to hold her down. She snarled, needing the feeling to escape. She roared and arched her neck, her head close to her chest as she pulled. Her tail lashed, her wings fought to unfurl. She hissed and planted her feet down on the ground, neck straining as she hissed. Her tail lashed and a loud snap erupted. the spikes along her spine ripped through the net, and she was free

Sethla roared and hissed, standing tall, towering over the Fearful Nazis. They cowered in fear and stumbled away. She hissed and leaped in the air, wings pounding she hissed. Snapping her jaws shut angrily. She snarled, _You-Will-Pay._ She hissed in rage, yes... they would. They would pay for hurting and taking James.. They would pay for hurting Razen and her. They would pay for all that they had done. She growled, _You are nothing but cowards, little bastards who deserve death and more. Death is not enough.._ She snarled and snapped her jaws shut, rage boiling inside of her. Her tail lashed and she hissed.

She growled, cracking her jaws open, the bellow in her throat that shattered the sound barrier as it became a scream of rage and hate. Her tail lashed, the barbs along her tail whistling from the force. She hissed and unleashed a fiery torrent/. The skies red and black hues. She growled and her scales turned an asphalt black. Spreading down her body like a plague. a plague of death. She hissed, keeping up the explosive fire. Her wings arched as they held her hovered in the air. Dark red chains like of Razens crept along her body. The words mimicking Razen's. She narrowed her eyes as the Nazis burned. Her flesh burned away with the fire. Her bones deeps et black with the red chain like writing. This was against her own command, it was due to her connection with Razen. She became more Syneath like. But still Syn.

She heard they screams, smelt their boiling blood and burning flesh. Tasted their fear in the air. she felt their panic and pain... She thrived off it. The wanted more of it, because it was never enough. But she knew she had to finish this soon, else James would be gone forever and they would not find him. Germany was vast now, it would be difficult as is to find the men holding him captive. Holding him and hurting him... Burning him on the inside. Making him alone and abused. She hissed at that thought and screamed in rage. The fire ceased and she dived, landing on the ground cat like, front paws first, her tail lashed. One of the men, obviously very brave, came close with a spear. She simply smiled and snapped her teeth together. Saliva and poison dripping from her teeth. Venom on the ground, pooling in her throat and her lower jaw. She snarled.

The man stepped back in fear of her. She hissed and lunged, catching him her teeth. His fate was quick...

As for James....

The truck rambled on down the road. They had had the mother distracted, the Dragon had been easier then thought. they had her down instantly and she would be busy as well. the two, dragon and mother, would be killing off those who remained if they didn't kill them first. And as for the child? They had him in the back. He was out cold. He had taken a hard hit from being forced off the Dragon with impact. They would have to look him over to be sure he was alright. Else he was useless to them and they might as well as just kill him. Then their effort was for nothing.

The truck groaned on the dusty, bumping windy road. James' eyes opened, he saw darkness, felt pain in his back and neck. He whimpered slightly and let his eyes adjust to the darkness of the truck. He sat in the far corner, watching the darkness. He swallowed hard, thirst.. He hissed, wanting to drink something but nothing was their and he felt so _Alone. _Oh.. Jesus Christ, not alone.. Please not alone...

The truck began to slow, James held himself into a tight ball sitting upright. He didn't move as the back was opened, but rough hands grabbed his upper arm, the left one, yanking him from the truck and onto the dark road in the bright sunlight. James looked down, looking at his not so bright shadow. The sun hurt his eyes. Light hurt his eyes. The man hissed and forced him to look up. James winced in pain as the grip on his arm tightened. The man smiled and yanked him forward, hand gripping the small child's arm. James followed because of the pain. It hurt. He followed obediently.. For now.

The man led him down into a building. They Walked down the hall and he thrust James into a room, forcing him to sit in a hard back chair. James tried to get up but the man made him sit, pointing a nine millimeter at him and snarling, "No." James had seen guns before, he'd seen Adam use one too... He knew what they did. Killed. Hurt. He stayed put in fear. Not moving as the tied his hands down to the arms of the chair. His left hand was forced wrist up, which was painful as is. He whimpered and the man struck him across the face. Snarling. James stopped whining, he'd never been struck before... Not hit or lashed at.

The man sat across the room,holding the gun as James at tied to the chair. He smiled at James with his cold ice blue eyes. More of them came, the Nazis smiling at James, one wielding a knife. He walked to James, the others standing around. James whimpered and fled into the chair, shying away from them. But he couldn't get away. The man with the knife held James lower arm, right above his wrist. The dragon on his arm seemed enraged as it stared blindly up at the Nazis man. The man took the knife an placed the tip on James wrist, slowly, gradually adding pressure to James' flesh. James screamed as it entered and pierced a vein.

One of the men behind him held his throat, forcing James' head back. A knife to his throat. Another took and laughed as James screamed in pain. The man with the knife carving into James' wrist. James tried to kick out, his legs tied to the chair. He screamed and screamed as they did this, carving his flesh and bone. He thrashed and only managed hurting himself. He couldn't break the man's grip. The man only laughed and worked slower. Taking and removing the knife, carved with care and devotion into James' wrist was the Swastika. It would never heal... It was too deep, set right into bone. The flesh and bone would heal, but the mark would remain. One of them came with a hot red poker. It was shaped in the swastika and many of them smiled, they had done this before they enjoyed hearing a child scream for his mother and father. But this was different...

Or it would be.

The man took the poker, pressing it to the bloody wound, the heat that struck bone and blood caused it to hiss and James screamed, thrashing in pain. The men laughed, and then... James snapped. He couldn't take it. He was blinded by the pain. He snarled and gritted his teeth, not screaming anymore.. They got mad at him for that one.. But they were about to See what they didn't want too. James snarled and blood dripped from his bleeding, burned wrist. The Swastika gleamed on it. He glanced at it, not knowing what it meant.. Yet. He snarled, looking at the men and laughed, he _Laughed. _They were confused at this. James laughed and then, deep red and black lines appeared on the floor, forming words, they gleamed and then.. The men fell.. Unable to breath, bleeding on the inside, they died.. including the one with the gun.

James let his head fall to his chest, unable to hold it up. He was exhausted from the energy to have done that. He groaned and his eyes closed.. Drifting to unconsciousness in the bloody, dead silent room.... Nothing moved but his chest as he breathed slowly and the occasional twitch of his marked wrist... He was alone..

_All alone._

Someone came in. James didn't look up, out cold in the chair. the man walked to him, kneeling down he placed a hand under James' chin and lifted his head. He spoke in German, "Wake up." Nothing.. "Wake up child." James' eyes fluttered open, he tried to keep them but they closed again. The man, instead of enraged, gently rubbed the mark on James' wrist, the Swastika, he spoke, "Wake up child." James whimpered and he opened his eyes, the man in front of him with his ice blue eyes locked onto James' dark black. The man smiled and spoke, "Duetschland uber Alles. Can you say that child?"

"Duetschland Uber Alles." James answered.

The man smiled, "Good. Now, Repeat after me okay?"

James nodded, this man, he seemed.. better. Not like the others, he was.. more.. calm. Like a leader.

"I swear by God this sacred oath:"

James repeated, saying in German as the man led him through the Nazis Oath..

" That I shall render unconditional obedience to Adolf Hitler,"

Repeated...

" Führer of the German Reich and people,"

Once more.. James sold out his allegiance to Adolf Hitler..

" Supreme Commander of the Armed Forces,"

James was to young to know...

" and that I shall at all times be ready, as a brave soldier,"

Almost...

" to give my life for this oath."

The man smiled as James finished and rubbed the marked arm. He spoke, "Good child.. Very good. Do you know who I am?" James shook his head in response and the man nodded, "I thought so.. you are only young.. We need young ones.. Ones like you.. You are strong.. Just not seeing it.. Son, Child of Germany, I am Adolf Hitler.."

and that, was the first time James ever met the Führer of Germany...


	3. Chapter 1 Deception

**Germany**

**November 30, 2010**

The cab drove down the street, the only thing on the road. In the back of the Volkswagen car sat a twenty year old male, he had dark black hair, it covered his eyes, he was looking at his wrist, a dragon birthmark wrapped from his palm to his shoulder, wrapping around his wrist. A second mark on his wrist, this one branded into his flesh and bone. Never to leave...

The Swastika of Nazi Germany.

The car slowed to a stop and he looked up, his left eye bore a scar, both eyes dark black, he had been born without an iris, his eyes like an abyss that would cause you to feel like you were falling into an abyss if you stared to long into them. He spoke, "I'll walk from here." His voice icy, cold, dangerous. the cab driver merely nodded and the man handed him money, getting out of the car. the Driver quickly turned the car around and left.

The man watched him leave, making sure he was alone, he began to walk down the path where the street had ended, he turned and went left, moving swiftly in case he was being followed, following a hidden path in the trees and undergrowth. He slowed his pace, watching the trees on both sides. The trees seemed to grow thicker, the underbrush more hostile. Paranoia flitted through his mind as he moved through the forest like vegetation. The trees pressing closer, then, they began to open up. Widening. He slowed, standing straight, he walked through the last of the trees, a large area of grass, few trees in this place. An acre of land. A house stood near the center. A sign read:_ Lecter Estate._

The Man walked down to the house, his hand on the door handle, he froze before he turned it. A sudden feeling of Danger, death, pain, screams, agony. Blood. He gritted his teeth, and turned the doorknob. The door was unlocked, it opened smoothly, easily. No creaks or groans from the hinges, he walked in.

The house was fine, no mess. no blood, no death or agony. He looked around, it was clean. As it always had been. He looked forward and saw on the far wall a Picture. He walked inside, closing the door shut behind him carefully. Hearing the door click as it locked behind him. He walked to the picture on the wall, looking at it with his black abyss-like eyes.

The picture was old, faded, it was a family portrait. A man and a women stood behind four children, Two boys, two girls, one girl an infant. The tallest, and eldest, stood in front of the mother, his hand on the shoulder of his sister, his brother stood beside him, holding an infant in his arms, the baby girl. The man smiled, looking at the picture he began to name them off starting with the women in the back, "Mother, Father, " He skipped the eldest, "Marcus, Reagan... And Alice." He spoke the infant's name with sorrow, then looked at the eldest in the picture and said with a strange mix of wonder and misery, "Me."

He looked away, swallowing past the hard lump in his throat, walking from the room he went into the kitchen, sitting in the chair at the table a smile caught up to him. He remembered this room. He remembered a while back, when his little brother and his Father had been with him and they were all sitting in the kitchen, and his Father had asked what they wanted to eat. that hadn't been long after their Father had found them after the many years of foster care and running away.

Something fell, a loud sound of breaking glass. The man jumped up from the chair, disturbing it, the chair fell over. He stood stiff, tense, ready for anything. His muscles screaming with tension as he stood there. His eyes narrowed and he turned swiftly on his heel, slinking to the living room where the sound had come from. He walked into the living room, staying by the wall and in the shadows. He relaxed as he saw what had fell.

The picture lie on the floor, the one he had been looking at earlier. He walked over to it, kneeling down he picked it up, holding the shattered glass, he set it on the table in the kitchen, he turned around and then...

Someone slammed into, surprise caught him and he hissed as his back slammed into the table top as the person pinned him on the table. The already broken picture frame fell to the kitchen floor. The man hissed and tried to grab onto the person who was attacking him, trying to get a hold on the other's throat, but his attacker already had his own throat and was putting immense pressure, suffocating.

Black spots filled his vision and he felt himself grow weaker, struggling against his attacker, he felt something slide down his side, then pain, blood seeped from his side, dripping off the kitchen table and onto the ground, spreading across the floor and under the broken picture frame and picture. He felt himself going out, passing out, his attacker smiled, speaking as he lost conscience, "Good night James."

---

**November 30, 2010**

_**11:30 P.M.**_

James groaned, he opened his eyes, his mind fuzzy, his vision blurred, he blinked a few times, trying to register where he was and how he got there. He tried to move, to get up, but something held him pinned down. He hissed , confused and immobile. He heard a laugh, trying to find the source, he snarled. The laughter's owner spoke, "Well, Do you remember me?"

James snarled and tried to move, "Who.. are you?" He hissed.

"Come on, you remember...think Jamie."

James froze, only two people had ever called him that, both he hated dearly..

"Rydin."

Rydin smiled, wielding the knife in his hands.

James snarled in rage. He would get out of here one way or another...


End file.
